Poisonous Flower

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: January 12, 2018

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Submitted: January 12, 2018

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“You may give up on that now.” The rich, velvet voice declared; so smooth, calm, and elegant. “Those bolts won’t loosen, nor will those chains break.” The voice continued; full of confidence and ease.

The tall, slender, and refined figure approached the medical table. His elegantly long fingers carefully rolled up the sleeves of his crisp, white dress shirt. The brilliantly light-blue eyes gazed down upon the victim shackled to the table. His thin lips curved in a pleasant and charming smile.

“You aren’t going anywhere, I’m afraid.” He stated, his voice now husky and low.

“You don’t have to do this.” The victim retorted; their own voice wavered, filled with the same fear visible in the dark eyes. She withdrew her hand from beneath the table, revealing fingers bloodied from attempting to loosen a bolt.

“I do, actually, Officer Danes.” He responded, becoming serious as he produced a cloth, soaked it, then proceeded to wipe her fingers clean. “You came too close…left me no choice. I truly regret that it is you.”

There seemed to be honest sincerity in both his tone and eyes. The victim flinched reflexively as he settled himself upon some chair, then folded his arms on the table beside her shoulder, resting his chin upon his arms. He smiled in response, chuckled even; his straight, white teeth glittering in the harsh lighting.

“I apologize for this, and for…possibly cracking your skull back at the precinct.” He spoke softly.

The victim grimaced as sharp pain lanced across the back of her head. She closed her eyes tight, gritting her teeth, and clenching her fists. She loathed giving him the satisfaction of her pain. More sweat beaded upon her already soaked brow. She felt the cloth press tenderly against her face.

“You smell of fear.” He murmured, inhaling and savoring; just like a wine connoisseur at a tasting.

Why are you doing this?!” The victim demanded, but the plea in her voice was all too obvious. Her eyes searched his face beseechingly, seeking answers or mercy.

“For two reasons.” He responded like one commenting on the weather. His thumb traced lightly along her jawline, but there was no tender emotion in his gaze.

This was a man who was methodical, meticulous, organized, and educated. These were traits that had lured his victim to her current situation. These same traits made him dangerous and deadly. At first glance, he was obviously a man of good breeding. Always well dressed in three-piece suits, brimming with charisma, charm, and sensuality. His soft spoken and well-mannered nature had cinched the deal.

“I learned at a young age, that my appearance could get me anything I wanted.” He explained, now winding a lock of her light hair around his fingers.

The victim couldn’t argue. He was indeed handsome; a perfect rival to the god Adonis, or Michelangelo’s David. Deep set eyes, high prominent cheekbones, thin face, strong jaw. A modern god in the flesh.

“Cruelly poetic, really.” He mused with a smile. “I am like a poisonous flower. My beauty draws people in…lures them.” He leaned closer as he lowered his voice to barely more than a whisper.

They were so close together now. His breath smelled of rich coffee and peppermint. There was a citrus musk of either cologne or after-shave upon his skin. The blue of his satin vest brought out more of the blue in his eyes. His carefully combed hair glinted golden-brown; giving him an angelic halo. These were things she’d once found attractive, but the monster beneath the mask had been revealed.

“Cruelly poetic, as I said.” He stated briskly.

She realized he’d been silent as he’d studied her, the same as she’d done to him.

“Reason two…” He rose efficiently and pulled a wheeled cart closer. “I have a love of…” His fingers danced along the row of silver surgical instruments, his eyes gleamed. “Fear.” He breathed, his eyes flicked up to his victim.

She squirmed and wriggled in vain. Thick band restraints held her hips and shoulders down, thick cuffs bound her wrists and ankles. Even if she could miraculously get free, she had no idea where he’d stored her clothes or her gun, not to mention she had no idea where they were.

“Hush now…” He murmured soothingly. He placed one hand over her sheet covered abdomen, effortlessly holding her body down. His other hand went to cover her mouth. “There’s no point in screaming. There’s only me to hear you.” He gently wiped away her tears, freeing her mouth.

“You won’t get away with this!” She blurted out, desperate to stall for time. “You’ll slip up…all killers do…their tokens are found…” She babbled tearfully as he smiled.

“Sh-h-h.” He whispered. “The only tokens I take,” He leaned close again. “Are ones that can never be found.” He breathed, brushing his fingertips across her lips, making her squirm and thrash once more.

“Please…please don’t do this!” She begged hoarsely.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He whispered, easily getting her body in check once more. “You’ve probably already figured this out, but…” He shrugged and continued. “Those other women…these past months…I’ve been pretending they were you.” He murmured, closing his eyes and leaning closer. “Your lips…your eyes…your smell!” He inhaled again, his jaw tightened, his hands tensed. “You’ve noticed!” He exclaimed as he opened his eyes and saw comprehension dawn on her terrified face. He smiled in wonder as fresh tears streamed from her eyes.

“You truly were the only one who could’ve been a match against me.” He pointed out, sounding rueful. “Such a shame…I quite looked forward to us being…” His eyes drifted down the silhouette of her body. “I believe we could’ve been magnificent.” He released her and reached for something out of her line of sight. “Now, we’ll never know.” His hand returned to her sight, holding what looked like an oxygen mask.

“NO! NO, PLEASE!” She screamed, thrashing more fiercely than ever. She knew once that mask went on, it was all over.

“I want to make this as painless as possible!” He exclaimed, using his free hand to grasp under her chin. “I promise, you won’t feel a thing!” He was excited like a child on Christmas. “I really am sorry that it had to be you.” He added in a more serious tone, his eyes gleamed. He closed the distance and kissed her, almost lovingly. “Possibly my favorite token ever!” He declared.

He was able to fasten the mask over her mouth and nose with one hand. He kissed her forehead, then smiled as he straightened up. Whatever was being pumped through the mask, worked quickly to cloud her mind and distort her vision; possibly aided by her concussion and panicked breathing. Beside her, he selected a lethal bone saw from the cart. He strode to the end of the table, folded back the sheet up to her thighs. He pinned one ankle down and place the edge of the saw on her flesh. He glanced over into her eyes and grinned; a charming and beautiful smile, full of life.

She felt the first searing drag of the saw, then nothing more. The last things she knew were the smell of her own fear, and the taste of his coffee-mint kiss.


© Copyright 2020 C A Sechler. All rights reserved.

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